He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. Never had he been so intrigued. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble. “Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face.
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